


Turned

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Turned [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, somewhat angsty with a happy ending, vampire!patton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22284298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: After being attacked by vampires, Patton is newly turned and terrified. Good thing his friends are right there to help him through it.
Series: Turned [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779166
Comments: 12
Kudos: 147





	1. Patton

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. I just had the first few lines stuck in my head and had to make something with it. I have a vague idea of this universe. Fantasy creatures/beings are real and everyone has always known this, most are fine and harmless, but sometimes they are dangerous. Maybe the boys are hunters that deal with mythical creatures that are feral or dangerous, and in this case they were tracking a pack of vampires, when Patton somehow got ahead of the group and cornered.  
> That's all I got folks, thanks for coming to my veeery improved TedTalk.

“Patton, please. You need to eat.” The words were soft, concerned, but he simply shrunk back against the wall, shaking his head frantically.  
They were right. The hunger snaked through his stomach, clouded his mind, it was a physical ache that echoed through his marrow, pounding in his head with a steady thrum, whispering food, food, feed.  
It would be so easy. He was right there, he could lunge and then warmth would coat his throat, he could drink and drink until he was drowsy from being stuffed full, blessedly full.  
He shook his head with a sharp breath, pressing himself further back, trembling. He was light headed, bright spots of color dancing across his vision, and he squeezed his fingers tighter against his arms, digging them into his skin. He couldn’t risk hurting them, he couldn’t take that chance, he couldn’t control the hunger gnawing away inside his chest, hollowing him out until he couldn’t think straight.  
“You have gone too long without feeding, and I understand that recently after turning is the most delicate and dangerous time for a new vampire. Not eating now could very easily lead to starvation.” A different voice, concern clear in the timbre of his facts.  
“Good.” Patton blurted, the first word he’d spoken in more than two days. He could feel the stunned silence from his companions, hoped they’d just go away. He could smell the too sweet scent of their blood, could hear it pounding through their veins, and it took everything in him not to bare his newly grown fangs.  
“Virgil wants to see you.” Roman said after a too long pause, and for once Patton’s eyes darted up, focusing on Roman's face. He’s worried about you." Patton swallowed dryly, eyes flicking between the two men.  
“How is… how is he?” he asked. He’d been so absorbed in himself, he’d almost forgotten. The struggle, flailing of limbs, a searing pain in his neck, flooding through his veins, fear making his heart beat loud in his ears.  
Then a blur of purple, a furious, wordless shout, and Patton was let go, sliding down the wall he’d been pinned against with a gasp. He heard the sounds of a struggle, of flesh against flesh, snarls and growls and hisses of pain. Then soft brown eyes looking into his, blood dripping into one eye from a gash on his forehead, one arm twisted oddly, words he couldn’t comprehend falling from his lips. Roman and Logan exchanged a glance, making Patton's heat speed.  
“What? What is it?” he asked, a bit frantic.  
“He'll be alright. But it might… take a while. His injuries were far from superficial." Logan replied, and Patton's hands fluttered nervously. If he really was going to starve himself to death, he at least owed a goodbye to Virgil.  
“He stayed with you, y’know. While you… changed. He wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t let Logan look at him, until he was sure you weren’t going to die from it.” Patton shivered, vaguely remembering the feeling of heat flooding his veins, burning through him as the venom spread, as it burned the human out of him, leaving emptiness behind. But he remembered murmurs, hands running through his hair, a damp cloth on his forehead, the low cadence of Virgil’s voice, arguing with someone. Probably Logan. He bit his lip.  
“ok" he whispered softly, slowly getting to his feet, leaning against the wall as his head swam.  
“Ok?” Roman asked, surprised. This was more of a reaction than they’d gotten in days from Patton. It was both exciting and worrying. Patton was the most effusive of the four of them. The fact that he was so subdued now was almost terrifying.  
“I'll… I wanna see Virg. If that’s ok.”  
“Of course it is ok, Patton. He’s in the living room at the moment. Do you require assistance getting there?” Logan asked, his voice low, a smidge too even to be natural. Patton shook his head again, regretting it as dizziness crested over him.  
Logan stepped back, out of the doorway, hands carefully clasped behind his back. Roman followed his lead, though he looked pained at being unable to reach out.  
God, how Patton wanted a hug, a comforting touch on the shoulder, a playful ruffle of his hair, but he could hear their blood pounding from here, was afraid instinct would take over on contact, was afraid of what he’d do if he could physically feel their pulse.  
So he slipped past them, managing to keep his footing as he made his way down the hall that contained their bedrooms, pausing in the doorway that led to the living room, a small noise of distress escaping his throat.  
Virgil was sitting on the couch, leg elevated on a foot rest before him, an ice pack on top of a splinted leg. The opposite arm was in a sling, bound with expert care against his chest. He could see bandages poking out from under his sweater around his left hand, a patch of gauze taped above his eye. There was a dark, angry bruise around his left eye, not to mention he looked like he hadn’t slept in days, face even more drawn than usual. His gaze snapped to Patton at his small squeak, eyes widening, a small, relieved half smile playing across his face as hope sparked to life in his eyes.  
“Heya.” He did his little two finger salute, and Patton couldn’t help himself anymore. He launched himself across the room, landing nearly on top of Virgil, burying his face against his hoodie, clinging onto it, letting out the sob building in his chest. He didn’t hear Virgil’s pained hiss or the shock of pain that flashed across his face at the impact.  
“I’m sorry, you… you're all beat up and it’s my fault for being so stupid, and, and I…” he hiccupped, unable to keep going, to keep talking with how hard he was crying, leaving him more light headed than he’d already been as he gasped in air. He felt Virgil’s one arm wrap around his shoulders, felt him rest his chin against Patton’s shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath as he held Patton as tightly as he could, ignoring the sharp stinging ache from his chest that meant his cracked ribs were pissed, the bruises that covered his torso that Patton was pushing on, squeezing him tight. It didn’t matter.  
“Hey, hey. It’s ok. I’m ok. I should have called for back up as soon as I saw, but I just… I saw you and I couldn’t… I couldn’t let them take you. I wanted to be there, when you woke up, but Logan wouldn’t let me, said I needed to get looked at too. Probably right, but still.” Patton sniffled pulling away, across the couch, too aware of Virgil’s heart beat when practically laying on top of him, not to mention the sharp inhales that gave away Virgil’s pain.  
“But… but they did. I’m…turned.” Patton almost whispered, surprised at the vehement shake of Virgil’s head, the ferocity that flared to life in his eyes.  
“No. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter that you got turned. You’re still you, Pat, still yourself. Still… still here. Not in some vampire den being brainwashed until all your memories are gone, not lying in some alley…” He paused, running a hand through his hair, sagging back against the couch. “I was so scared. I saw you pinned, saw the fangs and I just… I lost it. I got so wildly furious. Because I thought… I thought they’d killed my best friend.” Virgil's voice broke, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain the memory of panicked, rage infused anguish as he pummeled vamp after vamp, barely noticing their extra ordinary strength, how their hits cracked bone, their nails clawed through his clothes. He bared his own teeth in a feral grimace, hissing and spitting and dodging and stabbing at anything within reach with his daggers until he lost them in the melee. That didn’t stop him, pummeling anything in his path with his fists until he heard the other’s shouts, their pounding steps.  
“If you think you can take all three of us, be my guest.” He spat, as they all paused at the noise. They looked over him closely, appraisingly, bruised and bloody, arm broken, leg snapped, burning eyes refusing to look down, face twisted in a snarl that even they couldn’t match with all their fangs, still ready to and willing to brawl despite his bruised and swollen knuckles. A moment passed, seemingly endless. Then, as one, they turned and fled. As soon as they were out of sight he fell to his knees beside Patton, nearly collapsing when he saw Patton’s eyes on him, still seeing, still alive, still there, barely aware as Logan and Roman skidded to a halt beside him, half delirious himself as the adrenaline washed away, but refusing to let go of Patton.  
“we both know vampires aren’t inherently bad. Not all of them are dangerous, most of them aren’t, actually. It’s only ones that are cruel or power hungry or twisted as humans to begin with, or the ones who didn’t have anyone or anything to hold onto, who’ve gone feral. You’re none of those things, Pat. You’re the farthest from any of those things I’ve ever seen! You’re afraid, and that’s… that’s ok. That’s normal. But you don’t have to be. You’re not a monster, or some dangerous creature, you’re just… a human with weird dietary needs.” That earned a stifled laugh from Patton, a smile flicking across Virgil’s face in response. “it’ll be ok. But I need… I need you to feed, I need you to not give up i… I need you, pat. I can’t… I can’t lose any of my family.” The words were strained, and Patton could see his breathing start to falter, the panic overwhelming him, and without thinking, he reached out, firmly squeezing Virgil’s hand, kneeling on the couch beside him, grounding him as he counted, until Virgil calmed.  
Patton’s heart ached at seeing one of his “kiddos”, as he refered to his friends, his team, so afraid, so overwhelmingly scared, and it hurt knowing he was the cause.  
“What if I hurt you? What if I lose control and hurt all of you? What if I don’t remember my own strength and we’re sparring and I punch you through a wall?” Virgil snorted at that last one, imagining Roman’s indignant face looking up from a heap of plywood, dust staining his usually immaculate white and red letterman’s jacket.  
“Virgil, I’m serious!” Patton protested, lightly swatting at Virgil, and Virgil’s smile faded from his lips, but the warmth in his eyes was overwhelming.  
“You didn’t hurt me just then. In the five days you’ve been a vampire, well, three if we’re counting when you were conscious, you spent them hiding away because you were afraid of hurting anyone. You’re starving yourself because you’re afraid of hurting anyone. That doesn’t sound like someone who would lose control. That sounds like someone who is right now excersising the strictest self discipline I’ve ever seen. Even when you were delirious and feverish you never once lashed out. You’re not going to hurt anyone, Pat. Especially not one of us.” Virgil answered, refusing to back down, to let Patton challenge his words. He pulled up his sleeve with his teeth, making a face at the taste of the fabric, then held out his wrist, palm up.  
Patton stilled, fear and panic and longing and desperate need sweeping through him. His eyes found Virgil’s, who quirked his brow, that small smile back on his lips.  
“I trust you, Pat.” He said, lowly, sincerity written across every line of his face. Patton took a shaky breath then nodded, hesitantly supporting Virgil’s arm, carefully sinking his fangs into the soft skin.  
His eyes widened in surprise at the taste. He’d expected it to be coppery and slimy, for disgust to well up in him and for him to be unable to continue. Instead, it was tangy and sweet, almost like a mix of raspberries and citrus. He kept an eye on Virgil the whole time, making sure it wasn’t causing him any harm or pain, making sure he wasn’t taking too much. After a long moment he pulled away, cringing at what he’d just done, hating himself for it, feeling slightly ill and disgusted. Virgil caught the expression, and grabbed hold of his hand before he could retreat again.  
“Don’t you dare be ashamed of yourself. We’ve set up a schedule already, of blood drawing from each of us, so there’ll be blood in the fridge for you when you need it. Figured it might be less awkward than this.” Virgil said, gesturing between the two of them. “You won’t need to eat as often as you did before, so that helps. And if you bad talk or bad think yourself I will physically fight you.” Patton let out a giggle at that, an echo of a statement he’d said to Virgil more times than he could count. He sighed, then curled tight against Virgil, surprising him, but after a moment Virgil nestled close, wrapping his arm around Patton’s shoulders.  
“I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know…” He trailed off, feeling Virgil rub his shoulder soothingly.  
“One day at a time, Pat. We can do it one day at a time. We’ll figure it out together, all of us. It’ll be alright. I promise.” Virgil murmured, head resting atop Patton’s. His eyes met Roman’s and Logan’s, who had stayed hovering in the doorway, watching and listening, but giving Patton his space.  
Logan’s shoulders were slumped in relief, the disruption of his usually perfect posture enough to reveal how worried sick he’d really been. Roman was beaming, relief written across his face, he was always an open book. Virgil smiled back, letting out a long breath.  
“can I… can I sit with you, for a while?” Patton asked, voice small, and Virgil chuckled.  
“Of course, Pat. As long as you like.” He murmured, knowing Patton needed the reassurance and rest just as much as he himself did, knowing both of them had been too twisted up inside to get the rest they needed. Now that Patton had eaten, wasn’t going to die, he felt something in his own stomach unknot, tiredness pouring through him.  
“Virg? Thank you. F-for everything.”  
“Always, dadio.” Virgil smiled as he watched Patton drift off to sleep, raising an eyebrow at Logan and Roman, who quietly made their way across the room.  
“Good work, Edge Lord.” Roman quipped. Virgil stuck out his tongue in response, smile genuine.  
“All in a day’s work.” He replied. He leaned back against the couch as a spasm of pain rocketed through his chest, breath catching in his throat at the shock of it, like a bucket of cold water waking him up out of a dead sleep. It took a moment to put his composure back together, to assume his usual façade.  
“Virgil. Are you alright?” He had to roll his eyes at that question, coming from Logan of all people.  
“Yeah, I just nearly got beat to death by a pack of half feral vampires, but I’m fine. Definitly not sore or anything.” He replied sarcastically. It took Logan a moment to register the tone, and once he did he sighed.  
“I meant, are you any worse? Any new symptoms or pains I should be aware of?” Virgil softened, head lolling back against the couch cushion, staring up at the ceiling as he categorized his aches and pains. All present and accounted for. Oddly, the broken limbs hurt the least, now that they were set and bound up. Getting them in that position was a bitch, though. He shook his head, focusing on the present,  
“Sorry. That was… rude. No, nothing new, nothing any worse, really, just got a little aggravated from the love tackle I got from the koala here.” He replied, tipping his heard towards Patton. Roman gave a small laugh, and he knew Logan was adjusting his glasses. “Just the ribs. Not much you can do about those, anyway.” He finished absent mindedly, tracing the pattern of some stain on the ceiling with his eyes.  
“You need rest, too, Virg. A good lot of it, too.” Roman answered, uncharacteristically reserved. Virgil nodded.  
“Yeah. Nap sounds good right about now.” He murmured, barely aware of his eyes drifting shut. He heard a low laugh, and felt something warm be tucked around him and Patton, a soft tune being hummed nearby, as he drifted off.


	2. Logan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events from mostly Logan's point of view

“It makes sense, run down, edge of town, plenty of places to hide, Roman, are you even listening? Logan asked, turning to look at his companion, stopping his stream of analytics for a moment. 

“We lost Virg and Pat.” Was the quick reply, and it had Logan whipping around, gaze searching the street as if they would pop out from a bush and yell surprise. 

“Why would they deviate from the group? Virgil especially, he’s always on guard.” Logan replied, a scrap of purple catching his eye. He walked towards it, feeling Roman behind him, tense and ready to spring. Logan crouched, looking at the ground. A patch, matching those that Virgil sewed onto his hoodie, probably hadn’t been stitched on tight enough and had fallen loose. 

“I don’t know. But it looks like we at least know what direction they went. Good eye, teach.” Logan stood, patch tucked in his pocket, acknowledging the praise with a small nod. 

“Let’s hope they left more of a trail. Anything off main leads into smaller side streets and alleys. Nothing straightforward. They could have gone any direction.” He felt his pulse pick up a pace at that thought. He was sure they were fine, Patton had probably spotted a stray cat and wanted to pet it, forgetting they were on a mission and in potentially dangerous territory. And Virgil had followed to make sure he didn’t get into trouble. They were fine. They had to be. 

Roman took the lead as they followed Logan’s tactic of taking only left turns. Most of the off shoots were short or dead ends, and at this point they were doing their best to conserve energy and not full on sprint as they methodically looked down each dim pathway. It had only been minutes, but the tension radiating between Roman and Logan was tight enough it would trip anyone who walked between them, the worry sharp and grating against Logan’s chest.   
Then they heard it. A sharp, furious shout. They locked eyes for a single moment, before turning as one and sprinting towards the noise, heedless of any danger. That had been Virgil, and it was close. 

Another minute had them pounding into a narrow alley, Logan’s vision tunneling as he saw the two figures on the ground, ears ringing and breath caught in his throat. 

Patton was slumped against a brick wall, eyes closed. Virgil was holding onto his shirt, but even from behind, Logan could tell one arm was badly twisted, one leg bending in a way it was impossible for any human limb to bend. His shirt was shredded, red streaks crisscrossing his back. They were late, they were too late. It had been a trap, he should have noticed their absence sooner, should have kept a closer eye on them, should have had a better strategy for finding them, should have done something.

He was the strategist. He was the mathematician, the planner. So why, in all of his calculations, was this never a possibility he’d considered? 

“Lo!” The shout cut through his haze, and suddenly everything snapped into focus. He could breathe again, he could hear normally, it was like time started moving once more. He adjusted his glasses shakily and looked to Roman. 

“They’re not dead, Lo. Patton got bit. He’s turning. And Virgil’s… well, beat to hell is putting it kindly.” 

“I’m not deaf, y’know.” Was the reply from Virgil, but it lacked his usually playful scorn, falling flat against the wheeze each of his breaths came with, the shaking of his hands. 

“Right. Of… of course. We need to get them home. Someone needs to be monitoring Patton, in case…” He didn’t finish that thought, didn’t allow it. Because Patton would survive the turn. He was kind and strong and brave, and he could survive the extreme flu like illness that raged through a human when their body was changing. “And I need my medical supplies to treat Virgil’s injuries.” 

“No. Not until Pat… I’m not important. I’m not leaving him.” Virgil protested, fire in his voice. Logan knew he must be half delusional from the pain of his broken limbs alone, it was amazing he hadn’t passed out yet himself, and arguing with him was not going to help the situation any. 

“ok. We will take care of Patton first. But Virgil? You are important. You are just as important to me as Patton is. And I will not lose either of you today. That is an unacceptable outcome. So, I need you to listen to me and do what I say. Do you understand me?” Logan asked, voice low but intense, putting every drop of fear and worry and terror into it, a minute fraction of that soothed as Virgil nodded once. 

“yeah… yeah of course, Lo. I…” Virgil’s breath stuttered as a wash of agony flashed through his chest, and instantly Roman was there, supporting him. 

“He’s going into shock. If you take him, I can take Patton. He’s the lighter of the two.” Roman nodded, scooping Virgil up in his arms. He knew it was bad as Virgil didn’t say a single sarcastic, snarky comment, just kept his eyes glued to Patton, face going white from the movement of Roman’s steps, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. 

They put Virgil in the van first, laying across the backseat, head resting against the window. They were as careful as they could be, but any movement made Virgil’s face blanche, his vision flare white. But he still pulled Patton close as the placed him in next, ignoring the pulsing pain from his broken arm as he held him tight, murmuring soothingly to him, stroking his hair, feeling his temperature burning hot, his skin clammy and his breathing shallow. He could feel the small tremors wracking Patton’s body, the fever already eating away at him, and all his own pain was forgotten as he kissed Patton’s soft curls, keeping up his steady, low chatter, ignoring his own exhaustion as the car pulled away. 

Roman was driving, doing his best to go as fast as he could without causing the car to bounce around on the road. Logan had pulled the spare blanket they kept in the car in case of emergency out, wrapping it around the two of them. He didn’t take his eyes off them the whole car ride, making sure Virgil stayed conscious, it was possible he had a concussion and if he fell asleep now, he might not wake up. 

Just that thought was enough to make his heart start pounding, his mind lose focus and start to spiral, until he felt a hand on his arm, and looked up to see Roman steering one handed, eyes still firmly on the road. 

“They’re gonna be ok. We will make sure that they’re ok.” His voice was low and firm, and usually Logan would scold him about taking a hand off the wheel, usually he would rattle off statistics countering Roman’s words, usually he would clear his throat with a huff of embarrassment before moving onto a different topic. 

He found he didn’t have the energy for those options right now, simply giving Roman a grateful, if slightly doubtful, look, unable to formulate words to put his fears into context, because he wasn’t even sure himself what they were besides a profound sense of loss and emptiness and an ache that didn’t end that he could already feel building in his chest, the realization that he would rather claw out his own heart than watch Patton die shooting through him like lightning as they pulled into the drive of their house.

Virgil was just barely conscious, enough that he refused to let go of Patton, but not enough to recognize the irrationality of that action, and it made getting the two of them into the house quite a struggle. 

When they finally managed, they settled Patton in his bed, wrapping him in all the blankets in the house they could find to try and break his fever, even the one they gave to Virgil. He was too cold, Logan knew, a side effect of shock still hitting him, but every time he tried to get close, tried to get Virgil to let him look at his injuries, Virgil refused, getting almost angry at the suggestion.

Virgil was sitting on the bed beside Patton, wiping his brow with a damp cloth, ceaselessly talking to him, stroking his hair, squeezing his hand, reminding him he wasn’t alone, despite him being likely unable to hear the words, it brought Logan comfort. If Patton had his loved ones right there, perhaps he would wake up quicker. Perhaps he would hold on harder. Perhaps he wouldn’t-

He cut that thought off with a sharp inhale, turning and stalking out of the bedroom without a word. It hurt him to stand there and watch and be helpless, hurt him that Virgil wouldn’t let him look at his own severe wounds, knowing the longer they went the higher risk of infection, of the bones setting the wrong way, of Virgil himself not recovering. It hurt to look at Patton’s too pale face, cheeks flushed and hair sticky with sweat, it hurt to see the shallow rise and fall of his chest, it hurt to see him, usually so loud and funny and there, so still and not. 

But it hurt not being there too, he realized, as he began to pace the living room, hands clasped tight behind his back, head down as he stared at the endlessly repeating carpet, wearing a rut in it. It hurt to not know what was going on in there, even though it was no doubt no different than it had been moments ago, it hurt to think that Patton might wake up and he might not be there, it hurt to think that Virgil could begin showing signs of an illness and he wouldn’t be there to catch it, it hurt to know that nothing changed when he left the room. 

His mind wouldn’t stop whirling, wouldn’t stop shouting the statistics and information he’d so carefully memorized about human to vampire transitions, wouldn’t stop telling him what he didn’t want to know, that the survival rate was low in a situation like this, where the turner had been unwilling. That there was nothing they could do but wait for the process to complete. That right now the venom was working it’s way through Patton’s system, altering every single one of his cells, changing and twisting the DNA inside into something other than human, that the process was unimaginably painful, that the body then saw the changed cells as a disease and fought against them, and if the body won out then the victim would die. 

He froze. Die. He had been so carefully avoiding that word. Refusing to acknowledge it, because if he didn’t acknowledge it, then it wasn’t real, it wasn’t a possibility, it didn’t factor into this equation. 

Patton could die. The world tunneled around him, his breathing too loud in his ears, his heart beating so fast and so loud he was surprised it didn’t tear open his ribcage to escape its confines. 

Patton, smiling in the kitchen, making some terrible pun as he pulled cookies out of the oven, making Roman groan and Virgil snicker. 

Patton, surprising Virgil with a birthday party, somehow figuring out when it was even though Virgil had never mentioned it, not even Logan had known it was his birthday. 

Patton, eyes wide with rapt attention, arms resting on the table, chin resting on his hands, leaned forward, listening and absorbing every word as Logan lectured about the stars, space, his own private hobby being astronomy. And after, Patton asked questions, he’d actually listened, in a way nobody else ever seemed to.

Patton, sweet and kind and soft and always, always seeing the best in the world around him, in the people around him, even when they were ready to give up on themselves. 

Patton, dressed in his favorite cardigan, cat hoodie tied around his shoulders, eyes closed, arms crossed on his chest, lying inside a coffin, not breathing, not moving, nothing but an empty shell of what had once been a person. 

He slowly became aware of someone talking. The voice was far away, too distant to understand, but he thought he recognized it. It was someone he knew, someone important. Dimly, he registered a rhythm being tapped out against his arm, one he was familiar with, one he’d taught Virgil. Slowly, in fits and starts, he began to copy it, began to try and soothe the hurricane that was his mind, tried to focus on nothing but the steady beat against his skin, the voice drawing ever closer. 

“That’s good, Lo. Keep it up. You’re doing good.”

“Well.” He croaked out, and the rhythm paused. 

“What?” Roman’s confused voice, then finally his vision came back into focus, and he could see Roman crouched before him on the ground, when had he fallen to the ground, and he focused on his familiar form as he continued to breath. 

“It’s I’m doing well, not I’m doing good.” Roman rolled his eyes, but sank back on his knees anyway, not taking his attention away from Logan. Logan realized his face was wet, and he almost wonderingly wiped away the tears. When was the last time he’d cried? He didn’t know. But they were still coming, and he couldn’t stop them, and he almost didn’t want to. “and I’m not doing either of those things, it seems.” He finished, with a choked half laugh, half sob. 

“Patton is… and Virgil won’t let me near him and I can’t fix any of it! I’m supposed to be… I’m supposed to know… and I don’t. I can’t. I’m…” Roman was caught off guard. Logan was the most put together, steady person he’d ever known. He’d never seen him this off balance, this emotional, this afraid. In the face of near certain death, he could spout of probabilities and in a split second calculate what course of action would get them out alive. 

“Teach-“ 

“I know! That’s the problem, I can’t… I can’t be optimistic because I’ve memorized the facts, I’ve memorized the likelihoods, I know the outcome, but it can’t… it has to be different, it has to be different, because it’s Patton, not some number, not a… a percent or a textbook, it’s Patton.” He fell silent, a choked sob working it’s way out of his throat and then Roman was holding him, hugging him, something Logan would usually shy away from, contact he usually only tolerated, but now it felt like a lifeline, and he clung to Roman as if the world would vanish if he let go. 

“You need to rest up, teach. You’re exhausted.” Roman murmured, and Logan shook his head. 

“I’ll be fine. I need to be up, in case something deeper is wrong with Virgil, in case something starts to go… go wrong, with Patton.” He replied. Roman pulled back, concern in his eyes. 

“Do you know how long it’s been? You’ve been awake for nearly 48 hours. You’re not gonna be any help if you’re sleep deprived, and you know it.” Logan sighed, wiping his face and readjusting his glasses. Roman was right. He hadn’t realized it had been that long, time was passing oddly for him, what felt like a single minute turned out to be hours, and sometimes an hour was merely a second. Sometimes he blinked and nearly thirty minutes had passed, he knew it was a sign of sleep deprivation, of shock he himself was suffering from, and he could feel the strong urge to close his eyes growing. 

“A few hours. Just a few hours. Wake me if anything, absolutely anything, happens, no matter how trivial. And how come you don’t need sleep?” He answered, grudgingly. 

“Because I’ve been taking short, well placed naps, not pacing myself to exhaustion. Now get some sleep. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” Logan nodded, numb, the tears having eked the last sense of feeling he could muster out of him, and he pulled himself onto the couch, asleep barely a moment after his head hit the cushions, not realizing that Roman hadn’t agreed to his terms.

Logan jolted awake out of a dead sleep, eyes wild and heart pounding, the tail end of a nightmare vanishing before he could recall what it had even been about. He looked at the clock with a furious glare, realizing what time it was. Nearly noon. He’d slept nearly 12 hours. 

He lurched up, off the couch, padding quietly down the hall to Patton’s room, forcing himself not to hesitate before he entered the doorway, terrified of what he’d find, what would be there. 

Virgil was still awake, sitting on the bed in the same position, Logan didn’t think he’d moved once. He walked over, tentatively reaching a hand out, placing it against Patton’s forehead. Instantly, his knees buckled with relief and he fell to the floor, lightness exploding through his chest, bursting inside him like fireworks, laughter bubbling up from somewhere inside him he’d very nearly lost. Virgil’s eyes widened, and Logan pulled himself together enough to formulate words. 

“The fever broke. The fever broke, Virg. That means he turned. He survived. He’s going… god, he’s going to be ok.” Virgil slumped back against the bedpost, running his hand through his hair with a long, shaky sigh, a smile breaking across his face. 

“Roman went to get food. Figured we all needed to eat, but none of us would make anything. He’ll be back soon, knew I’d watch him.” Virgil said, voice hoarse, almost gone. Logan nodded, turning a critical eye to Virgil. 

“As soon as he’s back I’m getting you taken care of. No complaints, no arguing, we are going to the living room, treating your wounds, and you are getting some sleep. Patton is going to be ok. If you leave, he won’t disappear.” Logan said, a bit softer on the last sentence, seeing his own fears echoed in Virgil’s face. Slowly, Virgil nodded, deflating slightly. 

“Ok. Sounds, sounds good, Lo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have absolutely no idea where this story is going so it might be a while before any updates happen. Thanks for reading!


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